


Love By Contradiction

by BlueBayou



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Attempt at Humor, F/M, Fake Dating, Friendship, Humor, Romantic Comedy, olicity - Freeform, smitten!Oliver, stubborn!Felicity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 13:38:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18550876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueBayou/pseuds/BlueBayou
Summary: When Felicity meets Oliver, it’s anything but romantic. Taking her best friend’s spot at a speed-dating event wasn’t exactly how she had pictured spending her Friday night. Meeting said best friend’s soulmate? Even less expected.And even though Felicity never really believed in that silly prediction a fortune teller made ten years ago, the occasion is just too good to pass up. Alena is stuck in a toxic relationship and maybe what she needs to finally get over her ex… is to get underneath someone else.Mission “Get-Alena-And-Oliver-Together” is on the way, and Felicity will stop at nothing to make sure her best friend gets her happily ever after.Nothing.Not even Alena’s lack of interest, or Oliver’s weird tendency to ask Felicity out on fake dates.The plan is perfect, the execution flawless... except for one small detail: it’s not Alena who’s starting to fall for the guy...





	1. Wannabe

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys!  
> It's been awhile, right? Believe me, I didn't think I'd tackle a new fic, but sometimes the muse is stubborn ;)  
> This is purely a romcom, with probably a little bit of drama/angst to spice things up, but it all ends well. Knowing Arrow was going to end in season eight, then finding out Emily wouldn't be there for the last stretch made me want to write something light and fun. Love By Contradiction was born when I was playing with the idea of soulmates. I knew I didn't want to go the usual "soulmate" way, preferring to play with a few classic romcoms instead (like Only You, or You've Got Mail). I hope you'll enjoy it ;)
> 
> As usual, a gigantic thank you to mysticaldetectivepanda for her help, as well as Pidanka. 
> 
> Song: Wannabe - Spice Girls

_**Ten Years Ago** _

 

 

 

“This is one of the stupidest things you’ve ever made me do.”

“Oh, come on, Felicity. What’s the worst that could happen?” Alena bounced on her feet, clapping her hands excitedly as they waited for their turn near a small tent. The night was gently falling on the carnival fair, the joyful sounds of laughter and delighted screams echoing around them.

Felicity turned to face her best friend, shaking her head. “We’re basically encouraging scamming, Alena.”

“It’s just a fortune teller and, who knows, maybe she’ll tell me when Max Fueller will finally ask me out on a date.”

“Max Fueller is a gigantic douche. You really have awful taste in boys.”

Alena shrugged. “He’s hot.”

“He’s been using you for months, just so he can get decent grades in Algebra.” Felicity felt bad at the hurt that appeared in Alena’s eyes. Her friend was smart, but she was also a hopeless romantic. Something Felicity had never understood—romance was all nice and good, but there were things far more important in life. Like school. College. Degrees. Work. “Sorry,” she said in apology. “But you could do so much better than him.”

A small smile appeared on Alena’s lips. “I just wish I could be one of these girls, just for once, you know?” she said, pointing her chin toward the group of giggling cheerleaders that were gathered not far away.

“Giggling?” Felicity asked teasingly.

“Maybe not that bit,” Alena said with a laugh, all sadness gone from her face. “I know Max isn’t… he does have a douchy side, but I’d like to know what it feels like to finally be  _ someone _ , you know what I mean?”

“You  _ are  _ someone. Someone much more amazing than any of that crowd. Except Lindsay, she’s actually quite nice,” Felicity amended, eyeing the redhead who was in her English Literature class and was indeed very friendly. “Martina is funny too,” she added, seeing one of her teammates from the chess club. Groaning, she turned to face Alena. “Why can’t they all be clichéd mean girls like in the movies. It would make my job as best friend so much easier.”

Alena didn’t have time to reply when a young woman, who seemed in her early thirties, opened the thick curtain that led into the tent. “Come in.”

She was dressed like the typical fortune teller, with long, velvet clothes and dozens of necklaces and bracelets tinkling with every step she made. Felicity was surprised to see she was leading them to another woman, this one much older but dressed similarly. They both looked alike, and she figured they were probably related.

The older woman, Mrs Irma, based on the name of the small voucher they had won at the archery stand, looked at them as they took a seat opposite her. A small, round table was between them, with the expected crystal ball proudly sitting at its center. The tent was barely lit with a few old-looking gas lamps that Felicity was pretty sure were battery-operated but still gave the small space an eerie, timeless look.

“What do you ladies want to know?”

Felicity bit back the snarky reply that was begging to come out, refusing to ruin Alena’s fun. She liked to poke fun at her best friend’s sentimental behavior, but Alena seemed really excited by the experience, and engaging in a snark contest with a fake fortune teller at a carnival fair would probably ruin it.

Instead, she kept silent, her eyes fixated on a small dark spot near the crystal ball. She wasn’t positive, but it looked like candle wax, and the shape was highly interesting. If she cocked her head slightly to the left, it almost looked like a corgi.

A legless corgi, but a corgi nonetheless.

Beside her, Alena was almost entranced, leaning over the table with her entire body reaching toward the crystal ball as if it was the Holy Grail or her mother’s triple chocolate cake.

Both girls were very alike yet complete opposites at the same time. Both smart, with a clear preference for sciences and math which put them in the minority in most of their classes. They had moved to Peabody, Massachusetts, the very same summer, to the same street, and their friendship had started instantly. Being the new girl was never easy, but they had gone through it together.

But where Felicity was down to earth, sometimes too serious and awfully rational according to her mom, Alena was a head-in-the-clouds eternal dreamer. At least when it came to boys. Felicity wasn’t interested in them, and her first kiss with Ronald Pierce during their one-and-only date hadn’t made her more curious.

Boys were overrated, and that was that on it.

“Oliver Jonas.”

Alena’s gasp was enough to drag her back to the small tent with the crappy fake lamps. Well, her gasp, and the way she gripped Felicity’s arm tightly.

Felicity’s eyes rolled so much that it was a wonder they didn’t get stuck, permanently facing upward. “Alena, for the love of-”

“It’s a great name, Felicity. Even you have to admit it.”

“You’re only saying that because you love the Jonas brothers and-”

“What hot blooded woman doesn’t?!”

“Any hot blooded woman above the age of twenty, I sure hope!”

Alena disregarded her interruption with a wave of her hand. “Semantics.” Turning back to face the fortune teller, she continued, “Any more details?”

“No. The ball lets us see only what the ball lets us see.”

Felicity snorted. “Oh, awesome. The ball gives you the name of, what, your one and only? Your twin flame? And that’s it? Can’t it at least provide his social security number to make sure we have the right one?”

“I prefer the term soulmate,” Mrs Irma explained calmly, ignoring the rest of her tirade. “But some have a hard time believing in them. You’ll grow.”

“Alena, tell me you don’t actually believe this-”

“Shh, you’re going to ruin the juju!”

“No worry. That’s all I saw, I can’t tell you more,” Mrs Irma said, crossing her hands over her chest as if it was causing her physical pain to not be able to come up with a more elaborate tale.

“Oliver Jonas,” Alena tested as soon as they were both out of the small tent. “It really sounds nice. Oliver is a good name, don’t you think? It’s not too douche-y, it has a certain softness, and Olive Garden is our favorite restaurant. It’s a sign, Felicity. Also, your mom is right. You’re really like a woman who divorced five times and stopped believing in love, and you’re not even fifteen.”

There was no such thing as soulmates. The idea that, out of a world population of seven billion people, only one was meant to be someone’s true love was ridiculous. The whole concept of true love was even more silly in her opinion. Human beings fell in and out of love constantly. Some had a deeper relationship, for sure, but it always seemed so similar at the same time.

Books would tell you about the one guy that would kiss you and rock your world—as if there was anything world-rocking in the exchange of saliva and bacteria and the spongy slipperiness of tongues.

Books always stopped when the guy started to get interested in his secretary and left his family for her.

That’s what she told her best friend. But deep down, she had to agree.

Oliver Jonas  _ was  _ a nice name.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**_Present Time_ **

 

_ Alena Rose Whitlock… I’m gonna kill you. I don’t know how, I don’t know when, but it’s gonna be slow, painful, and embarrassing. _

Felicity’s heart was beating like she had swallowed four double espressos—which she hadn’t. She had stopped at three, and the last one had been a few hours ago. The dampness of her hands was getting uncomfortable, and she rubbed them once again on her jean-covered thighs, keeping her eyes firmly on the glass of sparkling water in front of her.

Felicity didn’t like clubs or bars. She wasn’t exactly a night owl and had always preferred the quiet places. A relaxed, simple pub for a drink between friends was more of her scene.

The place itself was stunning, she had to admit it. Modern, yet classic. Big, heavy leather chairs, wooden floors that made a satisfying sound if one knew exactly where to step, and enough space between tables to guarantee at least a little bit of privacy. Rationally, it was the perfect place for speed dating.

Which was why she had enrolled her best friend, in a desperate attempt to get her over her douchebag ex-slash-boyfriend-slash-ex-again, because it was hard to keep track of their on-and-off relationship.

Alena had always joked that she wanted to try speed dating. She thought it would be fun, and her analytic brain liked the idea of having only seven minutes to assess a man. A personal challenge, in a way. Felicity had figured it would be the perfect way to distract her and, hopefully, get her to meet a guy who’d make her forget Mark.

It was a great plan.

Until Alena cancelled at the last minute, and Felicity found out that there would be a penalty charged on her credit card if she didn’t show up.

She hadn’t even had the time to change after work, and it was Friday night. AKA casual Fridays at work. Which meant she was wearing jeans and a Hawkeye T-shirt. The comic character, not the one from the movies, of course.

Hardly a date-y outfit, and her uneasiness was only made worse by the fact that the other six girls were drop-dead gorgeous. Some were wearing mini outfits, others had a sleek, elegant look, but all of them had obviously dressed up.

Felicity was wearing Converse shoes.

She groaned at the reminder, wiggling her toes in her shoes. At least she was comfy.

Totally out of place and sticking out like a sore thumb for sure but… comfy.

The buzzing on the table made her glance at her cellphone and tighten her lips as she saw her best friend’s text.

**Alena - I’m such an awful friend, I know.**

The phone kept buzzing, a string of other texts following.

**Alena - I’ll do the dishes for one week straight.**

**Alena - Make it three.**

**Alena - I’m sorry, but he wanted to talk, and he seemed so sorry this time. We’ve been together for so long, it feels wrong to brush him off.**

Felicity sighed, shaking her head. Of course, Mark had wanted to see Alena tonight of all nights. She was positive it had nothing to do with the fact that Alena had posted on Facebook she was going to a speed-dating night. Total coincidence.

Her fingers flying over her phone, she quickly replied.

**Felicity - I’m stuck in what is probably my own personal hell for the entire evening, it’s gonna take at least a few pints of ice cream on top of the dishes duty.**

**Alena - I’m sowwy?**

**Felicity - …**

**Alena - I know, I suck. I just can’t seem to be able to walk away easily. He’s a huge part of my life. I love him.**

**Felicity - I wish you loved yourself more.**

Her thumb lingered over the screen, hesitating, unsure if it was a good idea to send that last text. She didn’t want to be mean or harsh, but Alena was stuck in a toxic relationship. Mark wasn’t exactly a dangerous guy. He wasn’t abusive as far as she knew. But he had a way of manipulating Alena and always wanted to be the center of her world in a way that was anything but healthy. Relationships were never easy, but when you had to fight your way through constantly, something was not right.

Not that she knew much about relationships. She hadn’t been in a serious relationship since Cooper. They had been together for two years, until he had to go back to Australia after his Master’s degree. She had been heartbroken. Cooper had been her first love.

Ever since then, her love life had been nonexistent. Not that she was still in mourning—not after three years—but all her focus had been on her own degree, then her job. Sure, there had been a few dates every now and then. Some with nice guys, others with not-so-nice guys. None had made her reconsider her celibacy though. The appeal just wasn’t there, and Felicity wasn’t one to think she should force herself for the sake of being with someone. She liked being single and would rather be alone than with someone who was barely a fit.

With a deep breath, she deleted the text she was about to send her friend. She didn’t want to start yet another argument about Alena’s love life.

“I might be wrong, but I’m pretty sure this whole thing is about getting to know whoever is sitting opposite you.”

Her hands froze on her phone as she had a flashback to when her mother would catch her doing something she wasn’t supposed to be doing—like staying up most of the night to watch a meteor shower.

The voice was warm, masculine, and deep… with a hint of amusement seeping through. That hint allowed her to relax a little, and she lifted her head with an apologetic wince.

“I knew I should have read the guidelines more carefully,” she said before gulping once she took her first date in.

Uh-oh.

And not a  _ “nope, that won’t do” _ kind of uh-oh.

Oh no. It was a  _ “am I seeing clearly” _ kind of uh-oh.

The first thing she noticed was his eyes.

Baby blues. There was no other way to describe them. A deep, rich, warm blue. Short hair, but not too short. Just a hint of messy. Light brown, or dark blonde, it was hard to say in the dimly-lit place. A strong, square jaw, softened by a five o’clock shadow. Full lips… and a smile that made her stomach flip a little bit.

He was tall, with strong, reassuring, steady shoulders. He was wearing a plaid shirt with rolled-up sleeves and a pair of dark blue jeans.

_ Handsome. _

_ Wait, no. _

_ Hot. _

Yes, he was hot. Like, really hot.

He cocked an eyebrow at her as she remained silent, probably tacitly asking her for the permission to sit down.

Which was a little bit silly since the whole purpose of this event was to sit face to face and… well, talk, probably.

She shook her head, trying to clear her mind. He must have taken it as an invitation since he sat down and rested his forearms on the table, linking his hands together.

His nails were neatly cut, short. His hands were… She wasn’t sure how he managed to pull that off, but even his hands were  _ hot _ . As in, attractive. She wanted to touch them.

_ Alena is right. I need to get laid. I’m being attracted to hands, for God’s sake. _

And here she was, in stupid jeans and a T-shirt. She groaned, cursing Alena’s ass again—this time for a totally different reason.

Why didn’t do they this speed-dating thingy on a Saturday?

Not that she was interested. She had just established that celibacy was her thing. Still. She had her pride and would have liked to look good for the hunk in front of her.

“So… what’s your name?” He asked, reminding her that he wasn’t just there for her to ogle him, but that she was supposed to  _ talk  _ to the guy.

“Felicity. Smoak,” she added, before cursing herself.  _ Never give your last name, idiot.  _ The slip-up made her nervous, and before she knew it… she was talking. “I’m twenty-four, I grew up in Vegas and, no, it’s not that great when you’re underaged. I moved to Massachusetts when I was twelve. I live in a small apartment with my best friend who was supposed to be here instead of me tonight, but she went back to her douchebag of a boyfriend and left me to deal with the whole thing because do you know these assholes actually charge you if you drop out at the last minute? I’m still paying off my student loan, I could do without a penalty of fifty dollars, thank you very much.” She took a sip of her cold water, putting the glass back down with a small bang as he stared at her, a shadow of surprise washing over his face.

Then she continued, because her brain hated her and wanted things to be as awkward as possible.

“I mean, I  _ do _ get it,” she amended. “You need seven men and seven women since it’s the whole point of the evening, and it’s for straight people. If it wasn’t, I guess I could have sent our neighbour. Henry is nice, and I’m pretty sure he’s actively looking for a partner. Sometimes I think he waits for me so he can have company on the elevator ride. I don’t mind, but the guy always talks about his birds. Like, actual birds. Cheep, cheep birds? He has a bunch of canaries, and I’m a cat lover, so obviously things can’t work between us.” She blinked, wondering why the hell she was talking about Henry-the-guy-who-loved-walking-around-their-building-in-a-robe. The hot guy in front of her had the corners of his lips lifted a little bit, and she felt the blush creep up on her cheeks. “Anyway…” she smoothly said, her fingers tracing an invisible line on the table. “It’s just that it was casual Friday at work, so I dressed casually. Which you probably already noticed, and I’m sorry if I’m not really all dolled up, I just wasn’t supposed to be here tonight.”

He tilted his head, his mouth twitching once again as he slowly let his eyes roam over her T-shirt. “I’m more offended that you’re a Hawkeye fan, to be honest.”

“Hey, he sucks in the Avengers, but Hawkeye is the bomb, OK?”

“I’ve always been more of a Green Arrow fan.”

Oh God.

A DC fan.  

She leaned back, biting her lips in disappointment. “I knew you looked too good to be true.”

He cracked a smile, almost reluctantly, a puff of air escaping him as he nodded apologetically. “At least, you think I look good. I guess there is that.”

“Well… yes,” she said slowly. Who on earth would think this guy doesn’t look good? It was the most obvious thing in the world. Which then made her wonder why the hell would he need to go to a speed-dating night. “Why are you here?”

His eyes gleamed with something she couldn’t identify, something teasing and fun as far as she could tell, like he was mentally rubbing his hands together. Why, she didn’t know, and it made her a little uneasy.

“There’s a no-show,” he explained. “My best friend and I played rock-paper-scissors. I lost.”

“Why would you volunteer?” She looked around, past the small space that was reserved for the event and into the other part of the bar, which was getting crowded. Most tables were occupied.

“Because I’m the co-owner.”

She blinked, bringing her eyes back to him. “Of the event?”

“I co-own the bar with my best friend who decided speed-dating would be an awesome way to bring a hint of fun and get new crowds. I’m the asshole who decided no-shows would be charged because I was fearing this would happen.”

This time, there was no denying the amused smile. His eyes were watching her, full of hidden laughter.

“Well… damn.”

“Yup.”

“And even though it’s your best friend’s idea, you’re the one who has to volunteer?”

“Yup.”

“I think we both need new best friends.”

He chuckled, his eyes lowering just a hint before hitting her again with a soft, gazing look that would have knocked her on her ass if she hadn’t been sitting. “Cheers to that,” he said, raising his beer bottle and waiting for her to clink it with her glass.

She obliged, feeling a tiny little shiver when their fingers brushed. She quickly ignored it because this guy was out of her league, and for all she knew he might not even be single anyway.

Everything about him screamed unattainable. His looks, his laid-back attitude, his calm confidence. It was obvious he was used to this whole flirting thing... and she was not. 

She frowned once she realized that she didn't even know his name.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t ask for your name,” she said in a questioning tone as he took a sip of his beer—weird choice for a wine bar owner, she couldn't help but think.

He put his bottle down, licking his lips. “Oliver. Oliver Jonas.”

The way his tongue licked the hint of foam distracted her for a second, but something tickled her brain.

Oliver Jonas.

Oliver. Jonas.

_ Oh crap. _

 

 

 

 


	2. Love At First Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!  
> I was planning to update earlier, but work was a pain in the butt and I couldn't edit it in time... let alone send the chapter to be beta'd by mysticaldetectivepanda. 
> 
> As usual, a big thank you to her and to Pidanka for their help.
> 
> Song: Love At First Sight - The Brobecks

 

 

She was cute.

Out of place compared to the other chicks, but cute.

Wait, no.

Not cute. Pretty.

Big blue-grey eyes, blonde hair that seemed thick and soft despite its ponytail. Plump lips with no lipstick needed to make them look fuller. She seemed smart—and it had nothing to do with the glasses on her nose. No, the way she was looking at him, with a little frown, her eyes serious and focused, was a dead giveaway. Felicity Smoak liked to use her brain, it was written all over her face.

Not exactly what he was looking for first in a woman, but it was always a nice plus.

“Oliver Jonas?” she repeated slowly, as if it meant something more than just his name.

“Yes.”

She blinked. Once. Twice. “Oliver. Jonas?” she said again, making him reconsider his impression of her being smart.

“... Yeah.”

“I can’t believe it.”

Oliver sat back in his chair, feeling slightly unnerved. Had he hooked up with one of her friends? Or worst, dated one? “Something wrong?”

“No. Just..” She seemed to search for her words for a few seconds, a myriad of emotions washing over her face. Shock, disappointment, acceptance, and then something he couldn’t identify. Something calculating and mischievous that made her look somehow… intense. The bright smile she eventually gave him hit him like a freight train.

_ Damn. Pretty  _ **_really_ ** _ is the right word. _

“I used to have a thing for the Jonas brothers,” she said light-heartedly. “I just had a flashback.”

He huffed out a laugh at that. For some reason, Felicity hadn’t struck him as the kind to be a fan of the Jonas brothers. “Not related, I’m afraid.”

“Obviously. No way they’d have kept you hidden, you’d have been the hottest of the bunch.” Her cheeks colored instantly, bringing the smile back to his face in a weird, unusual Pavlovian reflex. She seemed a little uncomfortable, biting her lower lip and avoiding his eyes, and he took mercy on her.

“You know what I do for a living. What about you?”

“I have my own company, specializing in IT solutions for small businesses. The store isn’t that far away from here, actually. We also customize laptops, computers or other techy devices, as well as run a help desk.”

“An IT girl  _ and  _ a business woman?” he asked in surprise. At twenty-four, he added in his mind.

“Yes. Although the business bit is still very small. It’s just me and a college student part-time, but we’re slowly building up the clientele.” She stopped to take a sip of water, eyeing him carefully. “You seem surprised.”

He shook his head, not wanting her to get the wrong idea. “You seem rather young, that’s all I meant.”

“You don’t look very old, and you also have your own business,” she noted.

He gave her a nod, knowing she had a point. “I’m twenty-nine,” he amended.  _ And I basically used my trust fund _ , he added once again in his mind. He had a sneaking suspicion that hadn’t been the case for her. Something about her screamed hard-work and a heavy sense of responsibility.

“Twenty-nine or not, you still built something really nice,” she said appreciatively, taking a look around her.

“You didn’t seem to enjoy it much before I joined you.”

She rubbed her forehead sheepishly. “It’s not really my scene, but it  _ is _ a nice place.”

“What’s not your scene? The speed-dating thing or the wine bar?” he asked, leaning in closer. Absently, he noticed she seemed to have freckles, but it was hard to be sure with the lack of light in the room.

“Both?”

“Damn. I could have worked around the speed-dating thing, but the wine bar is kind of a big deal,” he joked. She relaxed at his words, allowing herself to lean in as well. It created a small bubble of privacy, with the candle right between them, and he felt a weird tightening in his stomach. Nothing unpleasant, more like a vivid, bodily reaction to her movement.

_ Weird. _

“I’m not much of a social butterfly,” she admitted. “The wine bit is my thing, though. I love a good Bordeaux.”

He looked at her, trying to let her know she was doing just fine by his standards. “Why is that so?”

“The Bordeaux? It’s velvety, rich-”

He couldn’t help it. The grin was back there again, and he figured he might as well leave it on his face, because something was telling him she’d probably pull it out of him again in the next few minutes. “No. The social butterfly bit.”

“Oh.” She shrugged. “Small talk has never been my thing.”

He winked at her, hoping to put her at ease. “You’re doing a good job so far.”

“You’re just being polite.”

“No. I’m trying to get back to us flirting a little,” he replied honestly. She was pretty, fun, and smart. It was obvious to him that they had some great chemistry, and where was the harm in some innocent and good-hearted flirting?

What wasn’t so obvious was the reason why his stupid line caused an expression of pure horror to wash over her face.

“We can’t do that,” she blurted out.

His eyebrows rose. “And why is that?”

Maybe she had a point about the whole not-good-at-small-talk thing.

“First of all, I’m not interested. In dating, I mean. I’ve been celibate for a while and I love it. And more importantly, you’re not… and I’m not. Well, we’re not.” She made a decisive, slashing movement with her hands as if it explained everything.

Pretty, fun, smart, and a little bit of a nutcase, then. If he hadn’t seen her first, she might have caught Tommy’s eye.

Good thing he had lost that damn rock-paper-scissors game.

“We’re not…” he continued, letting the words linger between them when he saw she didn’t seem to want to explain herself.

“We’re not a good match,” she said firmly, pushing her glasses up her nose.

“Why so?”

Oliver wasn’t exactly used to a woman dismissing him so quickly, if he was honest. Especially since they seemed to get on well, even if their convo had been going on for less than five minutes. He’d be lying if he said his ego wasn’t pushing him to prove her wrong.

“Because. You’re social, I’m not. You… you have brown hair, and I don’t.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah. Our hair doesn't match, I can see why things would never work between us,” he snarked, crossing his arms over his chest. “But I’m sorry to ruin your headcanon. Technically, I’m dark blonde, or so my mom always says.”

She tilted her head, staring at him for a few seconds before fidgeting with the napkin underneath her glass. “I think my best friend would be a better match for you.”

_ That  _ he hadn’t been expecting.

“The one who seems to want to get back with her ex?” He asked, a hint of incredulous questioning seeping through.  _ Is she trying to set me up? _

“You might be exactly what she needs to prove he isn’t the only fish in the sea.”

_ She  _ **_so_ ** _ is trying to set me up, and we met like four minutes ago. _

He blinked slowly, trying to figure out when the conversation had gone from flirty banter—or at least that’s how he had seen it— to being basically parent-trapped by an almost stranger with her even more strange best friend. “Like...any decent guy out there.”

“You have dimples. Alena loves dimples.” She bit her lower lip, her eyes drifting to his cheeks where he had been told dimples would appear whenever he smiled. “All women love dimples,” she muttered to herself before letting out a long, dragging breath. “Listen, I came here on a mission. I can’t stand Mark. He’s a douche, he’s pushy, whiny, manipulative, and he never puts the toilet seat back down. And believe me, that’s a big no-no for me.”

“The toilet seat thing?”

“Yes. Well, I could get past it if he wasn’t manipulative, I guess, but he also always steals my Chunky Monkey and, really, who does that?”

“Assholes like Mark,” he offered. Even Oliver knew you never stole a girl’s secret stash of ice cream, a hard lesson taught by his little sister a few years ago. He absently rubbed the back of his neck, where Thea had thrown a spoon at him in anger.

“Yes. See? Now, you get me.”

“Actually, no I don’t.” He bit back his smile, resting his chin in his fist, deciding he might as well have fun with her craziness. “But if we went out for a drink, I’m sure I could get a good grasp on you.”

She waved him off. “Don’t waste your time with me, I’m very slippery.”

Her hand froze as she was reaching for her glass of water, her words seeming to register and he had to cough to hide his laugh.

She pinched her lips with the prettiest wince he had ever seen. “Can we pretend I did not just say that?”

“Yes.”

“Oh thank-”

“But we won’t,” he finished with what he knew was a shit-eating grin.

The glare she threw him only made him smile harder, resting back on his chair as he looked at her. Her cheeks were slightly more colored now, a clear sign of her embarrassment. He wondered how far down her neck and chest that blush was spreading to… and if she reddened as easily for other reasons.

With one final glare, Felicity grabbed her purse, making him frown instantly, thinking she was about to stand up and leave. But all she did was fish out a piece of paper, then one of those girly pens with a big, fuzzy pink ball on top, like his sister used to have when she was in middle school.

Felicity glanced at it, then at him with a sheepish smile, her glaring all but apparently forgotten. “It’s easier to find in my purse,” she explained before scribbling down something and slipping him the paper.

He almost reached out, only remembering the rules Tommy had drilled into him at the last second. “We can’t exchange numbers, it would ruin the entire purpose.”

No numbers were supposed to be exchanged, in order to make sure that no one felt pressured to do anything. Everyone would be handed a form at the end of the night, and they could indicate who they’d eventually like to meet again—for a real date hopefully. Oliver and Tommy had both agreed not to fill in the form at all.

Something that hadn’t bothered him at all originally. The women attending were there to find a serious relationship. He wasn’t. It was better to stay away.

He hadn’t planned on meeting the pretty-slash-funny-slash-obviously-not-here-for-dating-either Felicity Smoak. Still. He would stick to the rule… and hope she’d leave him her number on the form. Since she wasn’t exactly an enthusiastic—or even willing— participant, it wasn’t exactly against the rules.

At least, not in his mind.

Felicity’s mind, apparently, was seeing things differently. She smiled at him reassuringly, giving him another of her little waves. “No, no, don’t worry, it’s not mine. It’s Alena’s.”

_What. The. Fuck._ This girl was stubborn with a capital S.

“Listen, Oliver, you  _ have  _ to call her,” Felicity continued, apparently oblivious to the way he was now staring at her in disbelief.

He ignored the way his name from her lips somehow sounded different.

At least, he tried to.

“Listen, Felicity,” he mimicked, trying to ignore the way  _ her  _ name from  _ his  _ lips also felt different, “I try not to freak women out, and having a stranger call you out of the blue is creepy as hell.”

“Good point. What do you suggest?”

“Maybe wait until the end of the night, then we each fill out our form and say we want to see each other again, then actually… see each other again?” He offered, wondering what the hell had gotten into him. So maybe he’d fill out his form after all. With her name only.

“And then you come visit us at home and tada! Alena is there!”

“Or we just go out for a drink. The two of us,” he specified, wondering if her long celibacy wasn’t just simply due to the fact that she was completely and utterly oblivious to a guy when he was trying to hit on her. Her future husband would have to be incredibly specific when he’d eventually propose. He could already picture Felicity gushing over a guy kneeling, thinking he’d twisted his ankle and not letting the poor dude pop the question, too busy dragging his ass to the ER.

“And then Alena stumbles upon us, even better, you’re right.”

He opened his mouth, the challenge rising in him to get a date with Felicity for some reason—a real one. Usually, he didn’t have to do anything to win a woman, and this one, despite the appreciative way she had ogled him, seemed hell-bent on ignoring every single one of his attempts. Unfortunately, a loud ring echoed in the room, followed by his best friend’s voice inviting every guy to move one table to the right.

Felicity slipped the paper back at him, nudging him. “Please, Oliver.”

He took it automatically at her pleading tone, her begging eyes almost making him forget that she really was a tiny little bit insane. Tommy was right. There  _ was  _ something about loony chicks.

By the time the evening was over, the small slip of paper was burning a hole in his pocket. The other six women had been nice, attractive for the most part, but the seven minutes he had spent with each and every single one of them had felt like seven minutes. With Felicity, it had been like blinking, and then it was over.

He joined Tommy at the bar as he collected the forms. Tommy would cross-check the information the next day and send emails to the couples who had clicked.

“Has the blonde girl with glasses already left?” Oliver asked, his eyes going through the small crowd.

“Who?”

“The first girl.”

“Oh. Yeah. Why?” Tommy lifted his eyes, narrowing them suddenly. “Dude… you scored?”

“It was literally seven minutes in a crowded room, Tommy,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“You’re losing your touch. I could do it,” his best friend bragged.

“I wouldn’t boast about a seven-minute scoring if I were you. And we agreed not to mix business with pleasure, remember?”

Tommy glared at him as he tapped the papers on the counter, putting them all in a neat little pile. “Of course, I remember. That aside, I feel like I need to reassert that I always make sure to get the job done, I’ll have you know.” He picked up his glass, probably the one and only Scotch he would allow himself tonight—they had a strict no drinking rule at work, except for one or two glasses—before smirking. “You liked her? I thought speed dating was for dudes who couldn’t get chicks.”

“Fuck you. She’s fun. I think she wants to set me up with her best friend.”

Tommy snorted. “You know that’s a death sentence if there is one.”

“But I think she liked me, too,” Oliver murmured.

Tommy’s eyes widened. “Oh… man… you know what that sounds like?”

“No?”

“Threesome.”

Oliver groaned. “You’re such a pig. It’s not Felicity’s style.”

“Felicity? Pretty name.”

_ Pretty name for a pretty girl. _

“But don’t judge a book by its cover,” his best friend continued. “It’s always the quiet ones.”

Shaking his head, Oliver sat down at the counter, pulling the pile of forms toward him. “No. She… no, it wasn’t like that.”

“Maybe she thinks she’s not your style. The DUFF syndrome.”

“What the… she’s not a DUFF. She’s fucking far from a DUFF!”

Tommy shrugged. “Most of the time, the DUFF is not really a DUFF, just a girl who thinks she is one. It takes a real man to make her see the light.” He let out a long, wishful sigh. “Man… I love DUFFs. They go from shy to kinky in the blink of an eye.”

“How do you even get women, I will never know,” Oliver breathed out with a shake of his head, looking through the forms until he found the one he wanted. The corners of his lips lifted when he saw he had been the only one she had wanted to get in touch with.

“Oh… looks like your charms did pay off,” Tommy said as he glanced over his shoulder.

“Kind of. Look,” Oliver replied with a chuckle, pointing toward the small note she had added. “In case you lost Alena’s number.”

“She’s stubborn.”

“Yeah.” He shook his head in amusement. He found her quite intriguing if he was honest. Very different from the women he usually was involved with—mostly because he usually didn’t have to chase them.

“You’re gonna call her?”

“I think she’s more of an email kind of girl. She works in IT.”

“Oh. A smart one. That will change you.”

“Fuck off.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy is smitten I would say...


	3. Cupid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!  
> Another little chapter ;) 
> 
> Big thank you to mysticaldetectivepanda and pidanka for their help!!
> 
> Song: Cupid, Sara Evans

 

Felicity didn’t waste time. As soon as she was done with the last guy, she grabbed her handbag and handed her form to the guy she now knew was Oliver’s best friend, and headed back home.

Oliver Jonas.

She was praying Mark was already gone as she made it back to the small appartement she shared with Alena. She burst through the door, slightly out of breath since the elevator was once again out of order and they lived on the third floor. She wasn’t exactly known for her working out habits.

“Alena?” she called out, kicking her shoes off and getting rid of her jacket.

“Here,” was the muffled answer she got.

A little pinch in her heart made her recognize sadness in her best friend’s voice, but it wasn’t enough to water down her excitement. Alena was curled up on the couch, munching on Swedish fish in her favorite pajamas, her hair still wet from her shower.

“You OK? Mark already left?”

Alena let out a bitter snort. “He didn’t show up. Texted me to say he was stuck at work, and he’d get back in touch whenever he was available.”

“Oh.” Felicity sat down, patting her ankle comfortingly. “It’s for the best,” she said with conviction. It helped that she truly believed it, too. Mark showing up and filling Alena’s head with promises wouldn’t go well with her plans. “The most amazing thing happened tonight.”

Alena lifted her eyebrows, sitting up suddenly. “You met a guy? Finally?!”

“Yes!” Felicity squealed, before retracting herself with a stern shake of her head. “No!”

“What do you mean, yes, no?”

“I did meet him, and he’s amazing. Handsome. Like super-hot handsome. Business owner. Fun, nice… everything.”

“Ooooh, tell me more. Please distract me. Was he interested? Are you guys going on a real date? Are you gonna get married? Please, get married and make babies so I can fulfill my destiny as the poor, old, miserable auntie Alena we both know I’m bound to become.”

“Shut up. You won’t end up alone, you drama queen.” Felicity took a deep breath, struggling to keep her smile at bay. "What I meant is that I met him for you."

"You... what?" Alena's confused eyes narrowed. Felicity didn't exactly blame her because truth be told, she had never expected meeting her best friend's true love at a wine bar either. 

She had actually never expected to meet him, period.

Or anybody else's true love, for that matter.

Not even her own. She had stopped believing in fairytales a while ago and was very comfortable in her rational, single, fulfilling life. Alena was different, though, something Felicity understood. And even if she had always dismissed the ridiculous ideas of soulmates, she wasn't about to let that small detail keep her from, hopefully, making her best friend happy. 

Grabbing Alena's hand, she paused, adding a dramatic effect to the conversation. After all, the moment was important. _My name is Felicity Megan Cupid Smoak and I'm about to start shooting my pink arrows._

_“_ Alena… his name is Oliver.”

The shrug her best friend gave her made her deflate a little. “Nice name,” Alena nodded distractingly before diving into what she seemed to consider a more important topic. "But what does he look like? Is he tall? I always pictured you with a tall dude."

“Jonas," Felicity added, ignoring Alena's question.

“Oliver Jonas?”

“Yes,” Felicity confirmed with another little squeal, waiting for realization to dawn on her friend’s face.

Alena stared back at her, her eyes blank and empty. “Felicity, we’ve been through this before. The Jonas brothers are Nick, Joe, and Kevin. And they’re the only ones I’m… oh.”

“Yes!” Felicity exclaimed, watching her best friend carefully. Alena’s fingers raised to her lips, her eyes drifting past Felicity’s shoulder and an odd expression washed over her face. Something close to hope, then resignation, until she let out a deep sigh, shaking her head.

“Come on Felicity, you’re the one who kept telling me that was a whole lot of crap and that the woman was just a nutcase.”

“But what if she wasn't? Alena, it can’t be a coincidence! You finally break up with Mark, you’re supposed to go speed dating and, if you had, the very first guy you’d have met is Oliver Jonas! Your soulmate!”

Alena tilted her head, leveling her with a glare. “Since when do you even believe in soulmates, Miss dating-is-overrated-anyway-and-relationships-are-just-heterosexual-normative-indoctrination?”

_ Since that means I have a chance of getting Mark out of our lives for good. _

“I’ve found out I might have a romantic bone, after all.”

“When?”

“... Very recently,” Felicity said with pinched lips, picking on an invisible loose thread from Alena’s blanket. “Did you hear the bit about how hot he was? He has dimples,” she added for good measure. All women loved dimples.

“I’m not sure a guy who’s willingly going speed dating is what I need. Not to mention, you were right. It was probably a scam.”

Felicity’s jaw almost hit the floor. Here she was, offering Alena, the most romantic woman to have ever walked the earth, her soulmate on a silver platter, and for some reason, her best friend had suddenly decided to turn pragmatic and rational.

“You’re kidding, right? What’s wrong with a guy who knows what he wants and is open to new experiences? Which are, by the way, your exact words when you tried to convince me to go after Cooper left. Not to mention, he didn’t go willingly. He’s the co-organizer, and a guy didn’t show up so he had to take his place.” Taking a deep breath, she lifted her arms in the air in confusion. “And may I know  _ when  _ exactly we reversed roles in this relationship?”

Alena pouted, her mouth twitching as she considered Felicity’s words. “OK, fine. Is he even single?”

Felicity sat back on the couch, crossing her legs and digging into the bag of candy. “Yes. I made sure of that, who do you think I am?”

“I think I want to avoid guys for a while.”

“You always say that when you break it off with Mark, then you go back to him.”

“I love him, Flick.”

A heavy sigh escaped Felicity when she saw the obvious struggle her best friend was going through. “Are you sure you love him, or do you love the idea of being with him?” she asked in a soft voice. No matter how much she hated the dude, and how much she wanted to focus on the good news (aka, I found your perfect guy, you're very welcome, now go get married), the sadness in Alena's eyes was impossible to ignore. “He was your first serious boyfriend, maybe you’re just scared to give it a try with someone else, and you’re clinging to him.”

“I know he’s not perfect, but we have our moments.”

“Alena, you know he’s usually not there when you need him.”

“But when he is, he’s great.”

Felicity was stubborn, but she also knew when a situation was pointless. Alena was still too hung up on Mark, and reason wouldn’t be enough to snap her out of it. She needed to see how much she had to offer, and how a real man would cherish that and offer her just as much in return.

She needed to understand that Mark wasn’t her endgame… and Oliver Jonas was the perfect guy for that. Romantic Alena might have been in a coma, but she would wake up soon, and he’d be there.

Felicity would make sure of that. She’d drag Oliver and parade him in front of Alena if necessary.

Maybe she’d convince him to take his shirt off.

Not that she knew what he looked like underneath but his shoulders were strong, his arms deliciously well defined and…

_ Focus, Felicity. Focus. He’s for Alena, not for you. You have your trusted Carlton, and it’s more than enough, especially now that you bought new batteries. _

Mark didn’t stand a chance.

To be fair, she wasn’t sure Carlton, her loyal and faithful rabbit with ten different speeds and a rotating mode, really stood a chance either compared to Oliver Jonas.

Not that she allowed herself to think too much about it.

Chicks before dicks and all that jazz.

 

***

 

“Miss Smoak-”

“Felicity,” she corrected Marvin, offering him a smile. He was working for her part-time while finishing his Bachelor’s degree and still struggled to call her by her first name. It didn’t seem to matter much that she was barely a few years older than him.

“Right. Felicity. Mrs Clark is here to pick up her laptop.”

Abandoning the security algorithm she was currently working on, she stood up from her desk and stretched her back before heading to the back room, opening the security door with her trademarked combo of fingerprint and digital code. It had cost her an arm and a leg to install the whole thing but she really needed to be sure all the tech was safe and at no risk of being stolen. That was why she was still living in a tiny apartment with her best friend—most of her savings had been swallowed up in securing the place.

Fixing Mrs Clark’s laptop had only taken her an hour or so, but explaining how to avoid viruses took almost as long. By the time she was finally done, it was already time to close shop, and she couldn’t leave without finishing the algorithm she had been working on for a small start-up. She locked the door after letting Marvin out, then headed back toward what she pompously called her office—in reality, something barely big enough to qualify as a janitor closet. It was perfect when she needed to focus on something with no distraction, but she wouldn’t have minded a window. With nothing but the sound of her fingers quickly typing, Felicity swiftly finished her task, going through one last round of check-ups. The ping of her phone alerted her to an incoming email as she was savoring what was going to be her last cup of coffee of the day, her attention now completely on the coding of what she was hoping to turn into new software for one of her biggest customers, a major independent bookstore that was trying to launch its own marketplace for used romance books.

Seeing Oliver’s name on the screen made her blink in surprise. She had definitely made sure he was allowed to contact her, and she had also received his personal information, but she hadn’t gotten around to writing him yet. Her plan was still to convince Alena to give him a chance, but she hadn’t seen her friend much lately. Alena’s job was as demanding as hers. She was a graphic designer for the Massachusetts Port Authority and had been pulling extra hours in order to meet a deadline on a particularly demanding project.

 

**From: Oliver Jonas**

**To: Felicity Smoak**

**Subject: speed dating**

Hi,

I know this might seem a little upfront, but we have a free spot for this week’s speed-dating, and I figured maybe this time your friend could come?

If she doesn’t want to come alone, I’ll make sure to keep you entertained with a glass of Bordeaux ;)

Oliver

  
  


**From: Felicity Smoak**

**To: Oliver Jonas**

**Subject: good memory**

Hi Oliver!

I’m actually pleased you remember my favorite kind of wine—although I’m aware that this is probably part of your job requirements. Now, unfortunately, Alena is drowning in work lately, and based on what she told me, it might last a couple weeks. That being said, I think I could convince her to stop at your bar on Saturday night. Girls deserve to unwind, don’t they? ;)

Felicity

  
  


**From: Oliver Jonas**

**To: Felicity Smoak**

**Subject: what about you**

Are you drowning in work too? 

  
  


**From: Felicity Smoak**

**To: Oliver Jonas**

**Subject: re:what about you**

I’m pleasantly busy. I might have to hire someone else part-time by the end of the year. VTD’s are the bane of my existence.

  
  


**From: Oliver Jonas**

**To: Felicity Smoak**

**Subject: VTD-what??**

Computers aren’t really my thing…

  
  


**From: Felicity Smoak**

**To: Oliver Jonas:**

**Subject: re:VTD-what??**

Virtually Transmitted Disease. The viruses you catch when you visit porn sites. AKA about fifty percent of my job.

  
  


**From: Oliver Jonas**

**To: Felicity Smoak**

**Subject: Go on…**

Your job sounds far more exciting and intriguing all of a sudden…

  
  


**From: Felicity Smoak**

**To: Oliver Jonas**

**Subject: You have no idea**

The worst part is keeping a straight face when you give the computer back to the customer, while knowing very well that the macho dude in front of you has a foot fetish. Or the proper soccer mom is into gang-bang. 

  
  


**From: Oliver Jonas**

**To: Felicity Smoak**

**Subject: at the risk of repeating myself…**

Go on.

I’m especially curious about what kind of secret you might find on the laptop of a twenty-four year old blonde girl with glasses.

  
  


**From: Felicity Smoak**

**To: Oliver Jonas**

**Subject: re:at the risk of repeating myself…**

Lots and lots of cat videos.

  
Real cats.

  
  


**From: Oliver Jonas**

**To: Felicity Smoak**

**Subject: I’m more of a dog person**

So I’ll see you on Saturday?

  
  


**From: Felicity Smoak**

**To: Oliver Jonas**

**Subject: Save us your best table!**

We’ll be there even if I have to drag her by the hair ;)

PS: she’s a brunette. 

  
  


**From: Oliver Jonas**

**To: Felicity Smoak**

**Subject: Count on me**

So I’ll just have to look for a brunette with a very pretty blonde by her side?

  
  


Felicity smiled when she read his last email before mentally scolding herself. She was flattered, that was all.

Nothing more.

Nope.

Nothing at all.

Or at least, nothing that Carlton couldn’t take care of.

And if she suddenly found herself very impatient for it to be Saturday night, probably a first in her life as an introvert, it was mostly because she hadn’t had a good glass of wine in forever.

Yup.

That was totally the reason why, and it had nothing to do with Oliver Jonas and his damn dimples. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are going to turn quite interesting in the next chapter... Is Felicity going to be as smooth and subtle in front of Oliver? (yes, this was sarcasm XD). How is the saturday night going to turn? 
> 
> Spoiler alert: it might surprise one of our characters.


	4. Teenage Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!  
> So sorry it took me so long to update. Life sucks. Work sucks, too. Anyway, a huge thank you to mysticaldetectivepanda for her help, and Pidanka as well.
> 
> I will reply to all the comments once I'm back from vacay, I promise!! 
> 
> Song: Teenage Dream - Katy Perry

 

_**Teenage Dream** _

You think I'm pretty  
Without any make-up on  
You think I'm funny  
When I tell the punch line wrong  
I know you get me  
So I'll let my walls come down, down

Before you met me  
I was alright  
But things were kinda heavy  
You brought me to life  
Now every February  
You'll be my valentine, valentine

Let's go all the way tonight  
No regrets, just love  
We can dance until we die  
You and I  
We'll be young forever

You make me feel like I'm living a, teenage, dream  
The way you turn me on  
I, can't, sleep  
Let's runaway  
And don't ever look back  
Don't ever look back

My, heart, stops  
When you look at me  
Just, one, touch  
Now baby I believe  
This, is, real  
So take a chance  
And don't ever look back  
Don't ever look back

We drove to Cali  
And got drunk on the beach  
Got a motel and  
Built a fort out of sheets  
I finally found you  
My missing puzzle piece  
I'm complete

Let's go all the way tonight  
No regrets, just love  
We can dance until we die  
You and I  
We'll be young forever

You make me feel like I'm living a, teenage, dream  
The way you turn me on  
I, can't, sleep  
Let's runaway  
And don't ever look back  
Don't ever look back

My, heart, stops  
When you look at me  
Just, one, touch  
Now baby I believe  
This, is, real  
So take a chance  
And don't ever look back  
Don't ever look back

I'mma get your heart racing  
In my skin-tight jeans  
Be your teenage dream tonight

Let you put your hands on me  
In my skin-tight jeans  
Be your teenage dream tonight

You, make, me feel like I'm living a, teenage, dream  
The way you turn me on  
I, can't, sleep  
Let's runaway  
And don't ever look back  
Don't ever look back

My, heart, stops  
When you look at me  
Just one touch  
Now baby I believe  
This, is, real  
So take a chance  
And don't ever look back  
Don't ever look back

I'mma get your heart racing  
In my skin-tight jeans  
Be your teenage dream tonight

Let you put your hands on me  
In my skin-tight jeans  
Be your teenage dream tonight (tonight, tonight, tonight)

 

 

 

“Why do you keep glancing at the door?” Tommy asked from his stool at the bar. Oliver was shadowing their newest bartender while his best friend was going through their order for next week. While Oliver liked to do paperwork in their office on the second floor, Tommy needed the buzzing atmosphere of the crowded bar. He always said it helped him to see what was happening, rather than wonder from afar.

“No reason,” Oliver said quietly as he watched José with eagle eyes. “No, that’s too much Gin.” Once again, he pointed to the small booklet they gave every new recruit.

“Tommy said this was the proper amount,” José said with a frown.

Oliver’s narrowed eyes zoomed in on his best friend who gave him his usual smirk, lifting a tall, chilled glass to his lips. “I strongly suggest not taking any pointers from him. At least not when you’re making  _ his _ drink.”

Tommy clucked his tongue appreciatively. “My bad, José. I like my Gin And Tonic a certain way and you made it perfectly.” He hummed as he rested the glass back on its napkin, on the mahogany counter. “Don’t think I didn’t notice your lack of a proper answer,” he continued, eyeing Oliver. “Waiting for someone? And does it have anything to do with the fact that apparently our best table is booked even though I saw no reservation for it?”

The bar had always meant a lot to Oliver and Tommy. It had been their favorite spot during their college years—one that wasn’t too thorough when it came to checking if their IDs were legit, then one where they always felt at home. Their favorite table was in the back, in a small alcove nestled within old brick walls which, as far as they knew, were the last remains of the original building,)even though the former owner always loved to boast about his late 1800’s property. When the bar had been put up for sale, Tommy had convinced Oliver to use their trust funds and make it their first business venture. It had taken more than six months to turn the seedy college bar into an elegant, edgy wine bar. Nostalgia had made them keep their favorite spot mostly untouched except for a new booth and a thick glass cover over the well-used table that still bore his and Tommy’s handwriting. Oliver didn’t think anyone really knew the significance of the spot, but it definitely was one of their customers’ favorite tables as well. The alcove guaranteed a somewhat quiet, private atmosphere. The little he knew about Felicity made him think she would enjoy it, too.

Once he was sure José had everything covered for his order, Oliver turned his attention back to Tommy. “Why do you care?”

“Because you’re being secretive, like a chick. That’s like catnip for me, and you know it.”

“Felicity is supposed to stop by with a friend.”

“Felicity?”

“Yes.”

“Do we know a Felicity?” Tommy’s face was confused, his brow furrowed as if he was searching his memory. “Wait. The chick you asked me about after the speed-dating thing?”

“Yeah.” Crossing his arms over his chest, Oliver wished his best friend would just leave it at that for once.

He didn’t. “So… you guys did connect, uh?” Tommy made his index fingers bounce against each other, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I told her we had a spot left for her friend last night, but it wasn’t doable for her. She said she’d stop by tonight for a drink, though. That’s it,” Oliver felt forced to add.

“Sure, sure. And our best table is because…?”

“I know how to treat guests, asshole.”

“You spelt “chicks-I-want-to-fuck” wrong.”

“Hey!”

“My bad,” Tommy apologized, making a small wave of his hand. “I meant “chicks-I-want-to-fuck-very-respectfully,” obviously. You know I don’t state it because I  _ always  _ fuck respectfully.”

With a roll of his eyes, Oliver leaned against the counter, grabbing the beer he had been nursing.

“So, come on. Tell me,” Tommy nudged him, nestling his chin on his fist. “I vaguely remember her, but she obviously left much more of an impression on you to have you all fidgety. What’s her deal?”

“I dunno.” Oliver shrugged, honestly not sure himself of what had made him reach out to her. When he had first spotted her, two weeks ago, the first thought that had crossed his mind was how out of place she looked, dressed so casually in the middle of women who had obviously taken the time to dress up. He had been sure she had been set up at the last minute by some overbearing friends—something that had made him feel for her instantly since he knew very well what it was to deal with a meddling best friend. Not that Tommy was into setting him up, but he definitely was a nosy bastard. He had been a little caught off guard when she hadn’t even realized he was standing by her table like a doofus. His ego had taken a little bit of a hit—he wasn’t exactly used to being ignored by women. He had even thought she might have done it on purpose, to give herself an attitude. Her obvious surprise had ruled that out instantly, though.

The way she had startled, blinking up at him as if she had indeed completely forgotten the point of the evening, had been anything but fake.

He had felt a weird sense of connection then—two people who obviously didn’t really want to be there. It had become obvious that Felicity wasn’t exactly comfortable when it came to socializing, but the ice had been broken quickly, and their seven minutes together had even seemed a little short. She was smart, funny, and a little bit quirky—something that had been confirmed by the emails they had exchanged a few days ago. He had liked talking with her, trying to figure out what she was thinking. She seemed the type to keep her cards close to her chest, and it had intrigued him, the way she had dismissed the idea of dating for herself. Not that he had seen it as a challenge, but…

OK, fine, he had totally seen it as a challenge.

He had hoped they’d get to spend a little more time talking, but he was stuck babysitting their new bartender for the first part of the night. Tommy would take over eventually, and he had figured it might be a good idea to let Felicity enjoy her little night out. Maybe once she had relaxed, they’d be able to pick up their conversation where they had left it. The only problem with his plan was that she wouldn’t be alone tonight.

“Well, she definitely cleans up nice,” Tommy’s voice brought him back to the present, and his eyes instinctively searched through the already crowded bar until they settled on her. She was making her way through the room, her hair down, thick, soft and shiny under the lights. She seemed to be wearing a light, flowy top with very thin straps and even from a distance, he could see her collarbones.

Sexy.

Her collarbones were sexy.

The thought made him blink because… since when were freaking collarbones sexy?!

She made eye contact with him, a small, relieved smile on her face as she waved hesitantly at him.

He waved back.

Like a big doofus again, apparently.

“Dude, stop waving, you look like Kate Middleton.”

“Fuck off, Tommy.”

  
  


***

  
  


“Felicity… I wanna go home.”

Felicity groaned, dropping her head back in frustration. “You nag me every week to go out and when I finally plan something, you want to go home?”

Alena pouted, playing with a strand of her hair. “I’m just not in the mood.”

A sigh escaping her lips, Felicity cocked her head to the side. She knew Alena wasn’t exactly in the brightest mood lately. Which was why she had figured meeting Oliver would be the best way to cheer her up. Alena still wasn’t over Mark, and the fact that the asshole liked to text her every now and then didn’t make the mourning of their relationship any easier. Despite Felicity’s insistence, Alena refused to cut ties.

The two girls had each grown up without a father, Felicity because he had abandoned them, Alena because he had passed away. It had shaped them, in a way, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out exactly why Alena struggled so much with the idea of breaking things off for good with Mark. Her mother had raised her with the idea that when you love someone, you hang on tight and take them with their good sides and bad sides.

Unfortunately, Alena took that a little bit too literally, and that was why Felicity had to play it smooth.

Manipulate her, in short, a little voice murmured in her head.

_ Shut up. It’s her dimpled soulmate we’re talking about. Greater good and all that. _

_ You don’t believe in soulmates. _

_ So not the point. _

“What’s not the point?” Alena asked with a frown. “This place is nice, by the way, you were right.”

Felicity plastered a smile on her face, ignoring the first question and secretly hoping that was the only part of her inner dialogue that had made it past her lips. “It is nice, right? All cozy and intimate, too,” she added, wiggling on her seat. They were in a small alcove, slightly away from the other patrons. Oliver had done well.

“It is,” Alena agreed. “It doesn’t change the fact that I would really rather be home and watching Lucifer. I’m three episodes behind, Felicity. Three. For all I know, Chloe and Lucifer already hooked up and I missed it.”

“They didn’t.”

Alena tilted her head, her eyes narrowing in a silent reproach.

“What?” Felicity asked, lifting her hands in defense. “I didn’t spoil anything! Our oath is safe!” Since they both had different work schedules, they would often miss TV shows. They had always promised each other never to spoil anything, including about the shows one of them would eventually binge watch long after said-show ended.

“You spoiled that something doesn’t happen!”

“Can it really be a spoiler if nothing is technically spoiled? Like I could tell you Lucifer doesn’t transform himself into a dog and-”

Alena cut her off with a shake of her head. “Even if he did, it has no impact on the show. We  _ know  _ they’re gonna hook up sexily and hotly, but all the excitement is to figure out the when, and you just told me I won’t get my sexy Deckerstar tonight, meaning I’m not that excited about the episodes anymore.”

“Good. That means you have nothing better to do than stay here and have a few drinks with me.”

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Maaaaaaybeeee.”

“That’s low.”

“I know.”

“You’re a terrible friend who spoils what doesn’t happen on my favorite TV shows.”

“I know.”

“My revenge will be terrible.”

“But I did it for such a good cause! Look at this place,” Felicity said with a beaming smile. “You’re always saying that what our friendship is missing is a favorite spot to unwind on Friday nights, like in How I Met Your Mother. And did you see the super hot guy standing behind the bar?”

Alena looked at her, her lips pinched, before nodding somehow reluctantly. “It is a nice spot. I could see myself maybe meeting up here after work.”

“Asking the hot bartender for your favorite, and he’d know right away?” Felicity offered.  _ And you’d fall in love with him once you realized he always got you a glass of chilled Chianti before you even had the chance to ask and bye bye bye Mark-the-douche, hello again my beloved Chunky Monkey. _

“Or his friend,” Alena replied.

Felicity frowned, forcing herself to push back her perfect vision of a freezer full of pints of Ben & Jerry’s all dancing and singing in tune with NSync’s most iconic hit. “His friend?”

“Yeah, the other bartender? The one with dark hair?”

“I think it’s Tommy. He collected the forms during the speed-dating night,” Felicity said, searching her memory to place the tall, and yes, rather handsome, man with brown hair and a charming smile that she had seen standing by the counter. “He was dressed up as well, then.”

“Ugh? The guy is wearing a T-shirt? It’s a nice T-shirt, but I’d hardly call that dressed up.”

“Oh. I thought you meant the guy with the suit?”

Alena’s nose frowned a little. “You know playboys aren’t exactly my style. They’re too… I don’t know, not messy enough? Too perfect? Too clean cut and… girl, I only shave my legs if I really have to, what the hell would I do with a guy who wears a crisp white shirt in a freaking wine club? Not to mention, you know I’ve always been more of a Ted kind-of-girl, not Barney.”

“Oh God, Alena, at least pick Marshall.”

“Marshall is my second pick. Then Robin and Lily. Both at the same time by the way, and don’t judge, we all have our naughty little fantasies. Barney? Barney is way, way down my list. He wears a suit-pajama. That’s like a deal breaker. Ted FTW.”

“Well, there go my hopes and dreams.” A masculine, slightly theatrical voice made them turn their heads. “I was thinking you two were probably the most perfect thing my eyes had seen all day, and then I find out that… you’re on Ted’s team.” He gave them a smile that was anything but offended before putting the two glasses he was holding in one hand on the table. “Oliver said you’d like it,” he added, presenting the bottle of wine he was holding in his other hand. “I’m Tommy, by the way.”

“Oliver’s best friend,” Felicity said with a nod, happy to have figured it out by herself. “I’m Felicity. The Ted girl is Alena, and I think an entire bottle is way too much for the two of us.”

“That’s what I told him, but he shoved the damn thing at me like I was Tom Brady, the Pats were losing, and it was the last thirty seconds of the Super Bowl.” He started pouring the dark, rich liquid into their glasses and Felicity hummed appreciatively, sneaking a glance at the label that announced it was her favorite wine.

“So did he pick randomly or did you tell him and he actually remembers?” Alena asked with a not-so-subtle little smirk once Tommy was gone.

“He’s attentive,” Felicity answered non-committedly, trying very hard to hide her pleased smile. “Which will change you,” she added in a fake sweet tone.

Alena tilted her head with a bored look. “I told you. I’m not interested.”

Felicity cocked an eyebrow. “Since when are you not interested in true love?”

“Since when do you even believe in it?”

“I don’t,” Felicity scoffed. “I’m merely humoring you. You’re the one who was all giddy about this Oliver Jonas and now that I found him, you don’t even care.”

“I was fifteen. Of course I was all giddy.” Alena shrugged. “I grew up.”

“You mean you don’t think there is someone out there just for you? The perfect fit?”

Alena squirmed in her seat before letting out a long sigh. “Well… yes I do, but… I don’t think it’s him.”

“You haven’t even met him, Alena!” Felicity exclaimed, wondering when her best friend had turned into the stubborn one. Usually, that was her role. “He’s handsome, fun, charming, and super hot by the way, and he also has-”

“Dimples, yeah I know,” Alena finished for her.

Felicity bit her lower lip, her fingers covering the bottom of her glass. “Well, he does,” she said somehow begrudgingly. It wasn’t her fault if he had those little indents on his cheeks. They softened his looks, making him less like a supermodel and more like… someone warm and sweet.

“Anyway, what I mean is… I’m in love with someone else. You can’t force feelings away, Felicity.”

Felicity nodded, somehow reluctantly. Deciding that the sneaky way would probably be best, she swiftly changed topics. “Let’s not focus on that. We’re finally going out on a Saturday night and we have some great wine to keep us company.”

“True that.”

Felicity clinked her glass against Alena’s, then took a small, experimental sip of wine. The flavor covered her tongue, a rich, powerful taste with the perfect balance between tannins and sweetness. She hummed in appreciation, closing her eyes for a brief second.

“Even my white wine amateur ass has to admit, this is some decent wine,” Alena murmured, turning the bottle around to get a closer look at the tag. “And my hangover-expert-self is telling you that we’re in for a rough morning tomorrow.”

“Good wine isn’t so hard on the head,” Felicity stated, shaking a finger in contradiction.

“An entire bottle will be .”  
  
  


 

She should have taken her time with the wine.

Her plan had been to savor her first glass and wait until Oliver showed up, invite him to sit with them. Something smooth and subtle.

Smooth and subtle had been thrown out the window somewhere between the very last sip of said-first glass and her nod as Alena reached out for a second round. It was summertime, the sun had gently fallen, the night was gorgeous…

OK, she had no idea about the night since she was stuck inside a building, far away from any window, but the general feeling still stood. The evening was perfect. She felt at ease, relaxed, enjoying some well-deserved time with her best friend. Best friend who had switched to water earlier, saying one of them needed to keep a clear head.

Felicity had started to protest, then stopped once she realized she had no idea why it was important for her to stay sober. It had to do with plotting, she was pretty sure of it, but as for the reason why plotting was necessary… she had drawn a blank.

And then started her third glass once Tommy had showed up to apologize about the delay, but that one of their bartenders had called in sick, as well as their usual hostess, leaving the two bosses to fill in for them.

Which meant Oliver was currently stuck behind the bar. And the table he had made sure to save for them was nice and comfy, but also miles away from him, which meant she didn’t even have the possibility of ogling him a little.

A real waste.

“OK, drink up,” Alena interrupted her internal pouting, pushing a huge glass of water in front of her. “Then we have to head home. I’m tired, Flick.”

“Ugh. You’re no fun,” Felicity groaned, then gulped down about a third of the glass. The coolness of the liquid did clear her head a little, and it made her blink to remember her plan had been to have Alena meet Oliver, not get hammered.

“Well, it was fun, but your guy is busy, and-”

“He’s not my guy. He’s yours.”

Alena’s rolling eyes were not the most subtle thing of the evening--and that was saying a lot.

“I had a mission, Alena. You’re ruining it. You’re the Doctor Octopus to my Spider-man.”

“I feel terrible.”

“You should.”

“I’m going to take my terrible, dark soul to the restroom, and then we’re heading home, OK?”

“But-”

“It’s almost eleven, Felicity. A girl needs her beauty sleep.” Alena stood up, grabbing her purse before looking around her for the bathroom sign, then heading that way.

Felicity groaned, hitting her forehead on the table. Her plan had been good.

Why did Oliver’s bartender call in sick?? Today of all days?

“You OK?” The one she was just thinking about interrupted her pity party and she lifted her head so fast, the room spun a little.

“Where the hell were you?” she hissed.

“Didn’t Tommy tell you…?” Oliver asked, a small smile playing on his—very attractive, she couldn’t help but notice again—lips.

“Yes. Yes, he did, I’m sorry.” She gave him a dismissive, if not slightly clumsy, wave of her hand. “I understand, I didn’t mean it that way. But now Alena wants to go home. It’s late. We’re early birds, not night owls, like you and Tommy. And… oh. I never realized we say early birds and night owls. Why not early owl and night owl? Some owls are actually diurnal, did you know?” She went to push her glasses back on her nose, only to realize she was wearing her contacts. She self-consciously rubbed the bridge of her nose instead, then continued, ignoring the confused look on his—yep, still handsome—face. “For instance, the northern hawk owl hunts during the day.” Nodding, she linked her fingers together, resting her hands on the table. “There is also the northern pygmy owl.”

“The northern pygmy owl?”

“Yes.”

Oliver folded his lips behind his teeth, bobbing his head. “You’re… talking about owls.”

“Yes.”

“Why are you talking about-”

“I have no idea.” Her shoulders fell at the chuckle that escaped him. “Actually, I do have an idea.” She pointed toward the now empty bottle of wine. “It was delicious. I drank most of it while waiting for you. So now, of course I talk about owls.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” Oliver said softly with the warm, open smile she really, really liked a whole lot.

_ Dimples alert, dimples alert. _

“Oh God, no, she hasn’t seen them!” Felicity gasped, planting her hands on the table to help her butt out of the comfy booth.

“Seen what?”

Felicity might have been drunk, but not  _ that  _ drunk. It would put Alena in a very uncomfortable situation if she pointed out the way she had sold his dimples as one of his main assets that she definitely needed to check out.

“The… owls?” she said hesitantly, unable to come up with a better lie.

“Felicity Smoak…” Oliver murmured, leaning toward her.

Her stomach did a weird little flip as he got closer to her, his warm hand gentle on her forearm. “Yes?” Her eyes drifted to his lips, watching them as his tongue peeked out for the briefest second to moisten them.

“Are you tipsy?”

“Yes?” She asked again, her gaze still firmly fixated on the lower part of his face.

_ What a nice face. So well balanced. It even has a mouth and a nose. And there is that sexy little mole, right there at the corner. _

“Are you gonna be OK going back home?”

It made her snap back to reality, but it took a few more seconds for her eyes to lift high enough to meet his. “Of course. Alena will be there, we’re taking a cab, don’t worry.”

“Are you sure? We can work something out.”

“No, no. Alena won’t let me out of her sight,” Felicity explained with a sigh. “She goes home, I go home. That’s the rule. You never leave a friend be-” She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes widening slightly. “Oh sweet baby Jesus… yes! You never leave a friend behind!”

Another laugh escaped Oliver, along with a murmur that sounded suspiciously like “little nutcase.” Felicity wasn’t paying attention anymore, though. Nope. Her brain had come to the rescue once again. And just in time, too, because she could see Alena waving at her from the other side of the room, pointing toward the door in a clear “OK let’s go” sign.

Felicity glanced at Oliver who was still looking at her.

Then back at Alena who was waiting some twenty feet away from them.

And finally… her eyes fell to the glass of water left stranded on the table.

_ Necessity is the mother of invention, they say. _

“Felicity, are you-”

“I’m sorry, Oliver, but I have to,” she said before grabbing the glass… and throwing the ice cold water all over his chest.

  
  


***

 

It took him a few seconds the register what had happened.

Long enough for the ice cold liquid to seep through his T-shirt as he stared down his torso.

“I had to find a way to make her stay,” Felicity whispered hurriedly before handing him a pack of Kleenex.

His mouth dropping open, he transferred the stare he was giving his own chest to her wincing—but still fucking cute—face.

“And you didn’t think pouring it  _ over yourself _ would work just as well?”

Her mouth opened in genuine surprise. “I… I didn’t think of it.”

He tilted his head, giving her a stern look and trying to ignore the cold liquid he could feel sticking to his skin.

“Go change, I’ll handle it,” Tommy, snorting with laughter as he walked past him. “Told you there was something about nutcases!”

“I’m not a nutcase,” Felicity protested.

“My T-shirt begs to differ,” Oliver said sarcastically as he headed toward the back of the bar. He climbed up the private staircase, pulling the wet fabric away from his skin.

In his life, he had had quite a few drinks throws at him. Mostly when he was in college, to be honest. Some had been thrown in anger, others in sadness, and a few in disappointment.

None had been thrown at him with apologies.

_ I guess she still wants me to meet her best friend. _

Yet, he had seen the way she had looked at him. His lips. His hands. She was attracted to him, her body language was clear as day. He just had to find a way to make her understand that he was also attracted to her crazy water-throwing skills and all. Maybe Tommy was right. Maybe she didn’t think he could be interested in her.

She wasn’t exactly his usual type, but even a blind man could see how pretty she was. Feminine. Smart. Fun. A bit of a wild spirit, too, obviously. Something different, refreshing.

In every meaning of the word, seeing the state he was currently in. Grabbing the back of his shirt, he pulled it over his head even before he entered the small storage room where he knew some dry clothes were stored in case someone from the staff spilled something and needed to change.

The sound of footsteps made him turn around, a black, dry T-shirt hanging limply from his hand.

“I’m so sorry, Oliver,” Felicity’s slightly breathy voice reached him a quarter of a second before she appeared on the threshold. She stared at him, her eyes wide and blue and so damn pretty. The visible gulp in her throat made his ego soar a bit. “Can I touch?” she asked, making him straighten instinctively in a “Hell, yes, knock yourself out, want to sit on a chair to be more comfortable?” kind-of gesture.

The horrified expression on her face was almost comical. So was the intense blush instantly growing on her cheeks. “I meant can I help, of course,” she backtracked. “With the whole… wet T-shirt situation, not the… naked muscles.” She turned slightly around, squeezing her eyes shut as she murmured to herself, “Oh God, naked muscles everywhere.”

The smirk on his face was impossible to hide—and he didn’t even try. Instead, he took his time passing a towel over his torso, coughing to not-so-subtly get her attention.

“Is that a habit of yours?” he asked, slipping an arm, then the second one, into the sleeves.

“I panicked.”

“You think?”

“Are you really mad?”

Oliver took his time replying, seeing how uneasy she was. He didn’t want her to feel that bad over her impulsive streak. He had a feeling she didn’t let that particular flag fly free often. That being said… maybe this was also a good opportunity.

“Maybe just a little.” Pulling the T-shirt down, he approached her, waiting until she worked up the courage to look back at him. She was still by the door, and he rested a hand on the frame, leaning a little toward her. “I think we can forget all about it if you do me a favor. An eye for an eye so to speak.”

“If you want to see me in a wet T-shirt, I’m telling you right here and right now, I’m a small B-cup and there is nothing wet T-shirt worthy in this area. My main asset is apparently my butt.” The blush on her cheeks grew even more furious and she groaned. “Can we pretend I just said “not interested” on the wet T-shirt offer?”

_ Your main physical asset is your smile, but thank you for telling me I really need to let you walk first when we leave this room. _

He didn’t let any of his thoughts seep through, choosing to answer her question instead. “Yes.”

“Thank you.”

“But in return, I do need a favor.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Gasp* Oh no, a cliffie!!
> 
> It's been a while, right? XD
> 
>  
> 
> So... a favor... mmmmh now what could that be? Hint: It might involve one of my favorite tropes, wink, wink.  
> Also, how cute was drunk!Felicity?! 
> 
> I think it's safe to say that if Oliver ends up shirtless everytime she drinks a little too much, she might not behave... Just sayin'
> 
> Also, I already said it in my notes before the chapter: I will reply to all the comments once I'm back from my vacation, in about three weeks. I literally haven't had the time to focus on a lot of things lately, and unfortunately, writing and everything that goes with it suffered from it.

**Author's Note:**

> So, here we go again!  
> I hope you enjoyed this little appetizer (the chapter is short because the tone of the fic asks for simple, straight-forward chapters-like it's often the case for romcoms). I figured it was setting the tone and the premise ;)  
> Who thinks Oliver is already a little smitten? Because he totally is. Or intrigued at the very least.  
> Also, why did Oliver introduce himself as Oliver Jonas? Because, unlike Felicity, he remembered rule number one of speed-dating (or meeting strangers at a bar): don't give your full identity, stalkers are everywhere! But he is definitely Oliver Queen in this story.


End file.
